Scruffington in Tortuga
by orpsgod
Summary: Just a little one shot. Observances of one of the people in Tortuga about a bit of James' time in Tortuga.


Scruffington in Tortuga

She'd seen him around a few times before. He looked dirty and disheveled like most of the others that came and went from the taverns. Probably had a chip on his shoulder a foot wide by the expression he wore. Should have passed easily for countless others she'd seen pass through this town, but there was something different about him that caught her attention. Something about him she couldn't put her finger on just yet, but he definitely wasn't of the ilk she was used to dealing with, not that she'd attempted dealing with him. That expression he shot any brave….or unwise enough to enter his space was enough to keep all but the most fool hardy away from him and the ever present bottle of rum he clung to like life its self. Not that he was entirely left to himself.

The first time she'd noticed him had been in the Boar and Bear. She had been just about to come to agreeable terms with, and a few coins from one of the hands from a sloop that had made port a short time before when there were several loud curses, a crash as table and chairs had been sent flying, and the sound of swords being pulled from scabbards. She turned her attention, along with most of the other inhabitants of the tavern still sober enough to put their attention anywhere, to the center of the commotion. One of the first things she noticed about him was unlike most of the crossing of blades she'd seen done in a rather haphazard and ungainly fashion amongst the rabble of the taverns was the way he stood. Despite the drunken state he appeared to be in he held himself in a straight but relaxed posture, his blade held gracefully in front of him, as if he'd done this sort of thing before and was good at it. She couldn't help but notice how the movement of his body, arm, and sword acted in perfect harmony as he engaged the other man. In an all too brief time as far as the audience was concerned, the man had disarmed his attacker, who was not so drunk he didn't realize how lucky he'd been not to have been run through by his foe, and making an exit, if not a quiet one, trying to save what face he could with curses and oaths on his way out.

The man straightened his waistcoat with a tug, cast a glare around the barroom as if offering the same to any who might want to invade his space a second time, flipped the table back over to a semblance of its former state, righted one of the nearby chairs, and sat down. He motioned for the barmaid to bring more rum. As she came within a few feet of the table she stopped and her eyes grew wide. Before he could form the impertinent remark towards her for her lax way in delivering his bottle he felt something hard make contact with the back of his head. The last thing he saw was the floor coming up to meet him.

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She'd seen him several times after that, appearing each time a little more the worse for wear if that were possible. At times he wore the marks of the fights he'd lost since the last time she'd seen him. She had the opportunity to hear him speak a time or two, although it was usually not more than a few words in command to what ever barmaid happened to be handy to bring him more rum. But the cadence of his voice added to her assessment he was not the usual scalawag that inhabited these parts. And then tonight, as she sat with a group of revelers at a nearby table she heard him actually having a conversation with someone. And even though she couldn't make out what was being said her interest had been peaked at the sound of that smooth cultured voice emanating from him albeit a bit slurred, and she turned to see something other than anger and hate gracing his features. His emerald eyes almost appeared to be lit with a fire from within as he listened to the man seated next to him, his expression and bearing gone to one of intense interest. She was caught by surprise to say the least, she hadn't figured he had that much enthusiasm for anything left in him. This close up and despite the layers of dirt and grime, the shabby clothes, the unbridled wig he evidently chose to cling to almost as dearly as his bottle, and his scruffy beard she could see that at one time he had been a fine looking man, before what ever it was that had done to him what ever it was it had done and brought him here to Tortuga. She watched as he looked around the bar, with what she could only describe as a predatory look. She couldn't tear her eyes from him, she could almost feel the ripples of tension coming off him. Then he stood, peering around the room for a minute before heading off in a drunken yet somehow semi graceful gait. She watched him almost mesmerized as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Oye lass, how bout a wee shag afore I haff ta be back aboard?" the very drunk man sitting next to her said as he produced several shiny coins from his pocket. She eyed him, and then eyed the coins he was holding out to her. She figured he couldn't last too long in the state he was in and that _was_ a lot of money.

"Alright sailor, follow me." She said with a smile as she took his arm and headed off for the stairs with him in tow.

She was laughing at the uncoordinated attempts of her companion who was hanging on her for dear life and trying to loosen her bodice at the same time as they made their way to the room upstairs his money would help pay a good two weeks rent on and would not have noticed the man standing there at a makeshift table if not for the sound of that voice saying, "My story is the same as your story……."

She paused for a moment thinking to say something to the man but was impatiently moved on towards the stairs by her companion.

She heard the commotion downstairs a few minutes later, but because that was not unusual for a Tortugan night paid it no mind as no one came crashing through her door.

Several days later she noticed the absence of the man and upon asking was told he left on a ship with a kindly lad that had evidently taken him under his wing.

She didn't know why, as she had never been a pious nor praying person, but she found herself sending a little prayer to the powers that be for the man, hoping his life would take a turn for the better.

The End

Reviews are welcome


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